


Amor Patris

by Joules Mer (joulesmer)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Dadmiral Christopher Pike, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-25 11:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17724698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joulesmer/pseuds/Joules%20Mer
Summary: Like all great fuck-ups in this world the magnitude of the problem wasn’t immediately apparent.  When the first cadet came stumbling out of the emergency hatch the medical team charged with monitoring the simulation barely blinked.Leonard started the day with one friend to his name and not much left in the way of family.  It ended altogether differently.





	1. Chapter 1

Like all great fuck-ups in this world the magnitude of the problem wasn’t immediately apparent. When the first cadet came stumbling out of the emergency hatch the medical team charged with monitoring the simulation barely blinked. “Always one,” Leonard drawled, indicating with a wave of his hand that he’d look after the kid. It was a command track sim: the second year intro to advanced diplomacy course. Pretty benign, nothing like the fourth year off-world SERE training. 

Forfeiting his coffee and loping away from the other cadet-medics on hand to manage any minor injuries, Leonard crouched next to the young man and put a hand on the cadet’s shoulder.

Looking up with surprisingly glassy eyes, the human male frowned in confusion and said, “I _really_ don’t feel good, doc.”

In the background, Leonard was dimly aware of the _chime chime chime_ of several vital monitors starting to go off, indicating at least three more cadets in some form of physical or emotional distress. Internally, he gave a frown and a ‘what th’ Hell?’ even as he kept his attention focused on his patient. The hatch opened again and two more cadets spilled out next to Leonard. The first flopped weakly onto the deck plating, as if the gravity had been turned up too high. The second reared up on shaking legs and _punched Maartens in the face when the other medic came near_.

“Holy shit.” Leonard crawled backwards out of the way of swinging limbs, trying to consult his scanner as he did so. None of the readings made sense: pulse going through the roof, dripping with sweat, dilated pupils, no physical injury. Recalibrating for a neural scan revealed readings that were off the goddamn charts: norepinephrine, GABA, serotonin… the more he saw the more Leonard scowled at the hand scanner. He had to get the kid to a medical bay with a real imaging unit.

The hatch opened again and two more cadets burst out: one supporting the other. The young woman’s uniform was torn and her hair had come loose from its braid; the man she was dragging was weeping openly as he stumbled. There had been _nothing_ in the pre-sim briefing to warn about this kind of reaction. More individual vital monitors started to chime; a quick glance back to the med station revealed that every cadet in the sim was in distress. Five were outside… which meant four more were still inside.

Then the screaming started. 

Male and female voices mingling together. Gut-deep screaming, audible even through the sound-dampening walls of the sim chamber in a way that set his nerves jangling in alarm. _Holy shit_. Leonard started towards the hatch, only for a loud klaxon to join the cacophony of sound as a robotic voice announced, “ _biohazard alert_.” 

“McCoy!” Freezing in response to his name, Leonard turned to find a man he recognized from ‘fleet records as Captain Boyce running over. “Don’t open it!” The senior officer hadn’t been listed as in command of the sims that day; he must have been in the observation deck and come down when the vital monitors started going off.

Vacillating, because cadets were fucking losing it in there, he waited long enough that the older man was able to grab his arm. Leonard twisted out of Boyce’s grasp, but didn’t make another move towards the hatch as he protested, “Sir…”

Shaking his head in understanding, the older man urgently explained, “They’ve triggered a decon protocol: we can’t go in before it’s finished.”

The other medics had swarmed on the cadets who had made it out the hatch, including the one Leonard had started to treat. Shifting to anchor the younger doctor with a hand on his shoulder, Boyce continued, “The Retarian fertility rites are conducted at the commencement of negotiations: it includes a ceremonial brazier that puts off a mild anxiogenic and hallucinogenic. They want to see how the cadets manage to keep it together and stick to their negotiation plans when ever so slightly under the influence.” Boyce’s face turned grim, “Judging by the screaming in there it sounds like something went wrong with the aerosol delivery system.” The implications made Leonard’s hand itch to grip a hypo. It was supposed to take a half hour per group of nine cadets, with the sim being run eight times that day. If the first group got everything at once… Turning back towards the others, Boyce yelled, “Get the video feed up!” He might not have been in charge of the sim, but the order was followed immediately. Some officers like Boyce just commanded that kind of respect.

There was the brazier. Four cadets had been appointed as negotiation leaders, which would have put them right in front of the damn thing; the ones who made it out must have been assigned the role of security agents. The camera panned to the side and Leonard bit back a curse, there were the four cadets and two officers who had been playing the Retarian envoys. All of them were on the floor. Three were still screaming, one appeared to be unconscious, one appeared to be hitting his head on the floor, and one… Leonard felt something constrict in his chest. One was Jim. 

Boyce was swearing softly under his breath, but Leonard only had eyes for Jim. The younger man was sitting huddled on the floor, his arms wrapped around his legs and forehead pressed against his knees. Vomit pooled next to Jim’s boots; only the slight rocking of his frame and tension in his shoulders made it clear he was still conscious. Gaze flicking to the vital monitor confirmed that Jim was as affected as anyone still in there. What had Boyce suggested? Extreme anxiety, dissociation, and hallucinations. _Fuck._ Leonard had to suppress a disconcerting turn to his own stomach at the thought.

The older man interrupted his contemplation with a gentle, “Hey.” Leonard finally looked away from the display when Boyce gave him a little shake, “I’m going in there as soon as we’re cleared. I need you with me for Kirk.” Sensing the younger man’s confusion, he managed a lopsided half-smile in a largely vain effort to lighten the mood and added, “We all know you’re thick as thieves.”

Leonard was spared wondering who _we_ could refer to by the klaxon abruptly ceasing. A crowd of more senior medical staff had appeared in the meantime, so when they finally got the hatch open he followed Boyce directly to Jim.

Ignoring the stab of pain as he dropped to his knees on the hard floor, Leonard barely managed to run his scanner over Jim before Boyce had his comm out and was requesting an urgent beam to medical. They materialized in a private room, which would have raised Leonard’s eyebrow if he hadn’t been so focused on his patient.

“Jim?” The younger man reeked of the cloying incense and was shaking as if the temperature in the room was a couple dozen degrees lower. “Can you get up? We need to get you on the biobed.”

The younger man didn’t respond until Leonard’s hand closed over his upper arm. In retrospect it wasn’t a well thought through gesture, but the reaction it engendered was particularly bad: Jim _wailed_ and violently jerked away from Leonard, hands scrabbling on the smooth floor as he tried to get away.

“Jim!” Just managing to catch himself before toppling over, Leonard cursed himself and his instinctive reaction. “Jim: it’s Bones. You’re going to be fine.” Hands up, as if trying to calm a startled animal, he added, “You’re safe.”

The younger man didn’t seem to hear, reduced to crawling across the floor as if to put as much space as possible between himself and others. Leonard looked up helplessly to find Boyce watching them closely, padd in hand. There was a strange expression on the captain’s face, almost as if he were physically pained. Carefully setting down his padd, the older man motioned for Leonard to get to his feet and step to one side. 

Once the younger doctor complied, Boyce moved forward and softly, but firmly, said, “Jimmy.”

Jim moaned, hands clenched into tight fists. Drawing his knees up to his chest and huffing gulping breaths of air, he wrapped his arms tightly around himself as if he might fly apart at any moment. 

Instead of stepping back, Boyce took a step closer and in the same calm voice said, “Jimmy, I need you to get on the bed now.” Jim scrubbed his hands violently through his hair, hunching further in on himself. “Come on,” moving closer, Boyce gently reached down and drew the younger man up and, surprisingly, into a loose embrace. “Come on now.”

Into Boyce’s neck, Jim mumbled something that Leonard could only barely hear: “You have to get my kids.”

Softly hushing as he maneuvered the younger man onto the biobed, letting himself be pulled on as well, Boyce replied, “I know, Jimmy. It’s okay.” The bed hummed to life as it picked up their biosigns, quickly displaying the side-by-side vital scans. Once confident Jim wasn’t going to try and flee, Boyce looked up to find Leonard standing with his hands dangling loosely at his sides, confusion and concern warring across his face, utterly impotent to help. In the same soft tone he addressed the young doctor, “Len, I’ve got Liz Dehner on my padd as a psychiatric consult. She’s got the preliminary scan results plus the substance pharmacodynamics from the sim planners. If you can get a cortical unit on Jim we can try to find out more about what we’re dealing with. I doubt we can get him into an imaging unit unless we sedate him, and I don’t want to risk an interaction between the drugs.”

Practicalities. Leonard could do that. He retrieved the cortical monitor and returned to the bed to find all six feet of Jim sprawled against the captain’s side, the younger man’s face pressed tightly into the fabric of Boyce’s uniform. He could only watch in bemusement as the older man said, “Jimmy, I need you to turn your head so Leonard can put a monitor on you.” Jim muttered something that Leonard couldn’t catch, but Boyce replied with, “We got them. I promise.”

The promise seemed to help. Slowly, Jim turned his head away from Boyce’s shoulder, revealing sweaty bangs, flushed cheeks and eyes that were more black than blue. There was a vulnerability in his expression that Leonard had only seen once or twice, in rare unguarded late-night moments... usually around his birthday, or holidays when the rest of campus was largely emptied of cadets as they spent time with their families. 

While it seemed to get through to the other man, Leonard couldn’t quite bring himself to use the name _Jimmy_. Instead, he pitched his voice into a low drawl that wasn’t anywhere near as calm as he felt to say, “Jim, I’m going to put a monitor on your forehead now. That’s all.”

Blue eyes sluggishly tracked up to Leonard’s face, “Bones?” Expression twisting in a way that might have been pain, or fear, or something a little more brittle in between, Jim asked, “Why’re you here?”

Unsure how to answer, Leonard settled on a simple truth: “Told you I’d look after you, didn’t I?”

Jim’s gaze flitted away; he clearly wasn’t quite with them. The monitors chimed as data from the cortical scanner filtered in, confirming that the younger man’s brain chemistry was a total mess. Scrubbing a hand through his hair in frustration, Leonard looked between the biobed and displays and tried to make some sense of what he was seeing. None of it made a goddamn lick of sense.

Boyce’s padd beeped: Dehner was comming them. Leonard picked it up and an attractive blonde filled the small screen, text that she was inputting scrolling under the video feed as she went straight to business, “Kirk had one of the highest doses, but he seems to be managing it best. We’ve had to take a chance and fully sedate one cadet, and two more were forcibly restrained when they became violent. We can try to take the edge off the acute effects with a mild anxiolytic, but I don’t want to risk swinging it in the other direction so he’s going to have to ride it out for the most part. I’ve requisitioned the drug; if you have further questions comm— I’ll be consulting on the other cases as well.” She terminated the channel before Leonard could thank her.

The bedside panel beeped and Leonard opened the hatch to find the ampoule ready. Slotting it into a hypospray, he approached the bed only for Boyce to raise one hand in warning and say, “Just a second.” 

The captain was flat on his back, one arm around the younger man curled into his side. With his free hand Boyce pressed the controls to raise the head of the bed to a more comfortable incline. Jim kept the side of his face pressed into the fabric of Boyce’s uniform throughout the movement. Now more comfortably sitting up, even with Jim curled against and almost over his chest, Boyce took a moment to softly explain, “He’s not very fond of hypos.”

And _dammit_ , but Leonard knew that. He’d known that since he’d offered to catch Jim up on some vaccines the younger man had been flagged as missing during his intake physical. Jim had hemmed and hawed and avoided until Leonard had pointed out that he wouldn’t be allowed on the xenobiology practical without them. He could still remember that ghost of a flinch when he’d administered the vaccines, and how even a hangover hypo seemed to take a half second of mental preparation before Jim would willingly bare his neck.

Suppressing the urge to grouse, _I know_ , Leonard waited until Boyce gently coaxed Jim to turn his head enough to give a good site for the hypo. 

The reaction to the small bite of the injection was immediate: Jim flinched and made an uncoordinated move as if to get away and Boyce gripped him tightly with a hushed, “No, no, no. It’s okay.” Jim stopped trying to flee, but continued to shift, fidgeting as if his skin itched. “Len, can you…” Boyce trailed off, unsure what he wanted to say.

A soft knock at the door preceded it sliding open to reveal Captain Pike at the threshold. Looking into the room but hesitating, he softly asked, “Okay to come in?” Softly, softly. Leonard shrugged, everything was being done so _softly_ and he didn’t have a damn clue what was happening anymore. When Boyce didn’t object either, Pike carefully stepped into the room and shut the door. “It’s a disaster out there. Barnett arrived at the sim center just before I left and you could see the scenario managers ducking for cover. I take back everything I said about you wanting to sit in on this one.”

The last comment was obviously addressed to Boyce, who shrugged as best as he could with an armful of Kirk and replied, “You were right: he was doing fine up until the aerosol failed.”

“How’s he doing now?”

“From what Liz said about the others, better than most.”

Huffing out a breath, Pike replied, “From what I saw as I came down the hall, that’s not saying much.” Taking in the creases of stress in Boyce’s forehead, he asked, “You okay?”

Boyce managed a half-smile. “He was a lot lighter last time we were in this position.” The captains shared a glance that was obviously significant, but wholly unenlightening to an observer.

Sensing Leonard’s confusion, Pike jerked his thumb towards the door and addressed the younger man, “Walk with me.”

Unaccustomed to feeling out of control in a hospital, much less when _Jim_ was the patient, Leonard couldn’t suppress his gut reaction to protest, “But…”

Pike’s expression softened in understanding and he assured, “He’ll be okay with Phil.” Sensing lingering reluctance he added, “I promise.”

Leonard felt his own shoulders drop, wanting to object but not having anything convincing to say. Trailing Pike out of the room and down the hallway, he raised an eyebrow when the older man stopped in front of what looked like a supply closet. Confusion turned to surprise as he was ushered inside: “This is a doctors’ break room.” He’d had no idea there was one on this floor.

“You’re a doctor,” that inscrutable half smile of Pike’s came back, “and you certainly look in need of a break.” Retrieving two cups of coffee from a dispenser Leonard hadn’t immediately noticed, the captain waited until they’d settled into the well padded chairs before explaining, “Phil’s my husband, McCoy. I guarantee I still know more about the ins and outs of this hospital than you do.”

_Husband_? That certainly explained a lot. Attempting to mask his surprise by taking a sip of his drink, Leonard rolled the bitter liquid in his mouth before swallowing.

“You’ve probably got a lot of questions.”

Muttering, but without real venom, Leonard replied, “That’s one way to put it.”

Suddenly looking tired, Pike kicked out his long legs and let a measure of uncertainty bleed into his tone. “It shouldn’t be me telling you this, but he’s going to need someone understanding over the next couple days.” Wiping a hand over his face, the captain made a noise that might have been a groan before continuing, “The records can be found, _if_ you know what search queries to use. Jim… I wouldn’t tell just anyone, McCoy, I hope you understand that. Whether you know it or not Jim talks about you a lot.”

More confused than ever, Leonard frowned and focused on the sentence he did understand, “He talks about me?”

There was something dancing in the captain’s light blue eyes as he candidly replied, “Christ, McCoy, he thinks you hung the moon.” Leonard gave a huff that was half surprise and half disbelief. “You a couple?”

McCoy almost choked on his coffee. A _couple_? 

“I’ll take that as a no. He calls you his best friend, but I wondered if there was more.” Realizing he was stalling, Pike forced himself to get back on track and simply blurted out, “He was on Tarsus.”

Leonard wasn’t sure he’d heard right, given the sudden rushing in his ears. _Tarsus_. He’d been in medical school when the reports started coming in: a trickle of whispered horror and then a deluge that swamped the twenty-four hour news holos. Famine. Murder. Massacre. Eugenics. Mouth suddenly dry, he had to swallow twice before being able to get out, “He’d’ve been…”

Implicitly knowing what Leonard meant, Pike confirmed: “Thirteen.”

“Oh my God.” The coffee was suddenly too bitter, sitting heavy in his stomach.

Watching carefully as the younger man turned white before his eyes, Pike set down his own coffee. “About my reaction as well, at the time.”

The comments earlier suddenly came into sharp focus. In a voice that didn’t quite sound right to his own ears, Leonard asked, “Were you…”

“I wasn’t,” Pike’s gaze settled somewhere over Leonard’s left shoulder as he remembered, “but Phil was a lieutenant on the Aldrin. First ship on the scene when the distress signal finally made it out.”

It was obvious, really; the only possible explanation for the behavior earlier: “He treated Jim.”

It was so much more than that. Softly, Pike said, “He _found_ Jim.”

There wasn’t enough air in the room as Leonard found himself imagining that.

Sensing a thirst for details, and feeling almost compelled to get the truth off his own chest, Pike continued, “Jim survived the initial riots. He wasn’t on the kill list, but started looking after some other kids whose parents had been murdered. Eventually they fled to some caves and were hiding out there, starving. Jim was caught trying to steal food from the remaining settlement. Kodos personally supervised his flogging, tried to get him to tell where the survivors were hiding. When beating didn’t work they tried drugging him to make him compliant. When that didn’t work they tied him up in the town square and left him to die of thirst and his injuries as an example. He was in bad shape when Phil found him; wouldn’t have lasted much longer.”

“Captain Boyce treated him afterwards?” 

Pike nodded, remembering daily comm calls clearly even a decade later. “Took them two weeks to get back to Earth. Jimmy had some bad side effects from the starvation when they tried to get him eating again. Phil stayed with him day and night. Jim disappeared back into his family’s custody once they got back to Earth and we didn’t see him again.” Thinking back, Pike’s tone changed as he remembered his own place in the story, “We were newlyweds, if you’d believe it; supposed to go on a slightly delayed honeymoon just after the Aldrin finished its diplomatic milk run and we could take time off together. We spent two weeks surfing off Tavarua after Jim was taken into care. Phil… he took risks I hadn’t seen before; bigger waves, hugging the reef line, paddling until his arms must have burned, and despite it I don’t think he slept through a night the whole time we were there.

Leonard had never dealt with a case of starvation before, much less torture and starvation of a minor. He was trained for it, of course, he could imagine the state a young Jim must have been in and what those complications could have been. Could only imagine what Boyce must have seen on his way to the town square. A hand on his shoulder caught him by surprise; Pike had moved while he’d been busy contemplating his own boots. “Sir?”

“I think we can call this off-duty, son, drop the sir. You going to be okay with all this?”

Okay? That word covered a wealth of sins. Leonard repeated what he’d said earlier, a statement that he’d made to Jim after the younger man’s first birthday in San Francisco, “I told him I’d look after him, and I will.” The hand on his shoulder gave a gentle squeeze of approval and Leonard resigned himself to abandoning a coffee for the second time that day. Hauling himself to his feet as well he raised an eyebrow and asked, “You said he talked about me a lot. All good things, I hope?” 

Giving the younger man’s shoulder another squeeze, Pike smiled, but shook his head as he said, “You’ll have to ask him.”

Taking a deep breath, Leonard nodded, because he really had known better despite his curiosity. They walked side by side back to Jim’s room and as Pike reached for the door control he braced himself for what might be inside.

It was the same scene as earlier: Boyce sitting on the biobed, leaning against the raised back with Jim curled against him. He was whispering something into the younger man’s sweaty hair.

Voice soft, Pike asked, “Can we get you something, Phil?”

“Some water would be nice. Don’t think Jimmy’s up for anything.” 

Fetching a cup almost robotically, Leonard filled it at the tap and carefully handed it over, watching with fascination as Boyce whispered something to Jim before shifting to sip at the water. He’d never seen the younger man so still; all the usual animation held tightly in check under the pressure of whatever he was experiencing. When Pike pulled out a padd and took a seat, Leonard followed suit.

They sat for hours, the light slowly changing in the room as the sun moved across the sky. Three o’clock and Pike’s comm chirped. He looked at the device and frowned for a moment before reporting, “Barnett wants to talk to us. Well, you actually, Phil, seeing as you were in the observation deck with the telemetry.”

Glancing down at the man in his arms, Boyce grimaced, “Probably best go rather than explain why not.”

Sensing Leonard’s surprise at the statement, Pike offered, “Jim doesn’t deserve any extra attention from the brass for this.”

Oh. Of course: Starfleet would know all about Tarsus. Dehner herself had said Jim was handling it well, but that wouldn’t stop questions if Boyce were to say he couldn’t leave. Sometimes Leonard hated the goddamn politics that hung around institutions, which was just about every time he surfaced from his work enough to notice it. 

Boyce shifted on the biobed, muttering something when Jim made a small noise before he more loudly said, “Come here, Len. We can try a handoff.”

Nervously, Leonard approached the biobed, worried Jim could panic if they didn’t do this right. As Boyce slid off one side of the bed, Leonard slid on the other and wrapped an arm around the younger man. Jim made a small noise of distress, burying his face in his hands and curling more tightly against Leonard.

“Try…” Boyce licked his lips, then suggested, “Try a hand in his hair. It used to work.”

Tentatively, Leonard did as suggested and Jim quieted.

Following his husband towards the door, Boyce assured, “We’ll be back as soon as we can. I’ll put a privacy lock on the door; comm me or Dehner if you need anything.”

Voice a little gravelly, Leonard mustered enough confidence to say, “We’ll be fine.”

The door slid shut behind the captains and a smile tugged at Pike’s lips as he said, “Philip Boyce you sound positively _paternal_.”

“And if you’re going to give me a hard time about that, _Christopher_ , that would make you more than a touch hypocritical.”

Pike laughed, leaning over to press a quick kiss to his husband’s forehead because, yes, he’d definitely taken Cadet Kirk under his wing. “Come on, let’s get something to eat and figure out where we put them.”

Boyce smiled, relieved that his husband was obviously thinking along the same lines as he was.


	2. Chapter 2

Six hours. It was six _hours_ after the sim failed before Jim started to incrementally uncurl; another two before he raised his head and blinked owlishly at Leonard.

“Hey there, Jim.”

“Bones?”

“Yeah.” Leonard rubbed a hand over Jim’s upper arm and waited, encouragingly.

The younger man’s voice was thin and tight as he said, “I was on a planet…”

“You were in a simulation,” Leonard gently corrected. “We’ve been with you since it happened. You’ve been in ‘fleet medical the whole time.”

Brow furrowing in confusion, Jim croaked, “We?”

At a gentle nudge from Leonard, Jim looked up and found Captain Pike standing near the door, arms crossed and a worried frown on his usually confident face. “Oh.” Jim licked his lips, wishing he could curl back into the comforting warmth that was _Bones_. He had confusing threads of _drugs_ and _Tarsus_ washing over him and stuffing his head with cotton wool: his academic advisor and dare-he-consider-it personal mentor had witnessed what must have been an epic meltdown. A hot spike of embarrassment shot through him and Jim was mortified to hear himself whimper aloud. 

“You’re going to be fine. It’s all over.” Pike’s lips hadn’t moved, and that definitely wasn’t Bones’ voice… but it wasn’t unfamiliar either.

Head snapping sharply further to the right, Jim couldn’t help but give a little gasp of surprise.

Tall, straight backed in his uniform with a captain’s braid at his sleeve, greying hair the wrong color. “Hi Jimmy.” The man looked different, older, his brain supplied, but the _voice_ was the same.

“Bullshit.” The assertion came out strangled and he felt Bones’ arm tighten around his shoulders. There was no possible fucking way he could have flaked out in a sim and _Phil_ could be here. Phil had found him: cut his hands free and picked him up with whispered reassurances and a scent that was nothing like the decay and death that had clogged his nostrils for months. Phil had kept him going through sheer force of will, pushed back the other doctors with their hypos and their _drugs_ and helped him sip clean water and held him until he managed to sleep. He’d spent _days_ plastered against the doctor’s side, even as the older man kept up a soft and reassuring monologue about Earth and his friends and family and friendly aliens with strange customs until Jim remembered his voice again and joined in with questions.

A husk of emotion colored the captain’s tone, “Yeah, it’s me, Jimmy.

Jimmy. He hadn’t been Jimmy in over a decade. Jim’s eyes watered and his face just _crumpled_. He wasn’t crying, not quite, but there was far too much emotion in his voice as he asked, “What’re you doing here?”

In a voice that was even and measured, although hoarse after hours spent whispering earlier, Boyce replied, “I was observing the sim; I wanted to see you were okay with the drugs.” A glance at Pike and he added, “I wanted to see you.”

Jim shifted and Leonard’s tightened his arms around the younger man, he could feel a trembling of nervous energy building that he wasn’t sure could be contained.

Sensing the younger man wasn’t sure, Boyce asserted, “I looked for you, Jimmy, once you’d have turned eighteen, but I couldn’t find a record and I didn’t know if you even wanted to be found. If you just wanted to forget.”

Jim appeared to be considering Boyce’s words seriously. All of them. After a moment he softly replied, “I can’t forget.”

Boyce’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Neither can I.” 

Jim sniffed, wetly. Emotions normally kept under tight control far were too potent after the morning. Pike took a step sideways, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on Boyce’s shoulder. Jim’s eyes tracked the gesture even as incomprehension settled on his brow.

Ducking his head closer to the younger man’s ear, Leonard offered, “They’re married, Jim.”

A blink of disbelief, then tension tightened Jim’s shoulders, a sharpness in his tone, “What am I, some kind of pity case?”

Boyce made an involuntary movement forward, but his husband’s hand tightened on his shoulder. Pike’s gentle tone belied his words: “Don’t be stupid.”

“Chris!” Boyce’s admonishment was startled.

Pike’s reply carefully even, “ _Phil_.” 

Hurt bled into Jim’s tone, “Well?”

“Son…” It was a familiar word between them, but the wrong one to use in the moment. Jim’s jaw clenched and Pike quickly backtracked, “Hell, Jim, I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you. And you damn well weren’t a pity case— not even with those napkins hanging out of your nostrils.”

Boyce picked up the story then, “I was on the Farragut when you got to San Francisco— I’d just left on a nine month tour with the Deltan plague relief effort. You should have heard the letter from this one,” a gentle elbow to his husband’s side as he continued, adopting the other man’s tone, “You won’t believe who I scraped off the floor of a bar! He’s brilliant and he’s going to come I can _feel_ it, but can you imagine if Komack had done this milk run?”

Jim snorted at that, despite himself, because if Komack had tried a recruitment speech he’d have probably been arrested for assaulting a Starfleet officer.

“I only got back at the start of the June, then Chris and I took some time off together during the summer session. This was my first week back at Medical and after so long I wasn’t sure how to approach you, but I still had to come and see you were okay.”

Jim’s gaze slithered back to Chris, the question plain in his eyes, _Why didn’t you say anything_? 

“That was _your_ past, Jim. You and Phil. I can only understand so much, and I’ve damn well tried, but I wasn’t there.” There was a perverse sort of longing in Pike’s tone; one that spoke of wishing to share a burden with a loved one. To understand something that had defined the other man.

Mollified by the truth in the captain’s words, Jim slumped as tension melted into exhaustion. He closed his eyes for a moment, just a moment, as Leonard gave his shoulder a careful squeeze.

“Jim?” It was Boyce, leaning down near the bed.

Oh. The sudden _longing_ in his gut was unexpected. It seemed Boyce was feeling it too, as when Jim moved the motion was met. They hugged, tightly. 

In the background somewhere Jim was dimly aware of Leonard pulling away, slipping off the biobed and unobtrusively moving to stand next to Pike. The scent was familiar, flinging him back to being thirteen years old and _terrified_ and relieved all at once. Boyce must have sensed it, as he gripped more tightly. Jim allowed himself to savor it for a while, before eventually muttering, “I want to go home.”

Muffled by Jim’s shoulder, Boyce’s reply was soft, “I know.”

Somewhere behind, Leonard made a noise of concern high in this throat. Jim might be over the worst, but he still needed careful observation.

Boyce must have heard it as well, as he disengaged from the embrace and pulled back to cast a critical eye over the younger man and the surrounding monitors. Jim’s brain chemistry was still a little off and he was clearly stressed and exhausted, but Dehner had technically given the all-clear if Boyce agreed, “The others will be staying overnight, perhaps longer. You’re over it, for the most part, but we need to monitor you.” Jim’s dorm was a quad: four single rooms with a shared common space. Not an ideal layout for someone recovering from an event like that day. Sensing the young man drawing the same conclusion, he added, “You can stay here overnight and Leonard or I can keep an eye on you… or you could stay at our place. Both of you.”

Pike cast a sideways glance at Leonard and offered, “We’ve got a guest bedroom, and a pullout couch in the office that isn’t bad.”

Overcome by the offer, Jim nodded.

“Alright. Leonard, why don’t you replicate Jim a clean pair of sweats to take with us and we’ll ask for a discharge by beam.”

Great, Leonard thought, transporters. It figured. For once, he wasn’t about to complain.

 

********************

“How’s he doing?” 

Leonard looked up from his padd to find Pike watching him carefully from the other side of the living room. “Alright, I think. Captain Boyce,” at the older man’s eyebrow, he amended, “Phil’s saying good night and giving him a final check over.”

Pike nodded approvingly, coming further into the room to reveal a bottle of beer in his hand, halfway empty, and another which he offered.

Accepting the drink, Leonard took a long pull from the bottle. They’d had an early dinner of pasta, about all that Jim had been up for. It had been surprisingly pleasant even under the circumstances. The captains’ townhouse had a lived in feel to it; not the impersonal durasteel and glass of the modern ‘fleet buildings. It was an antique style that had nonetheless remained popular in California— midcentury modern he thought it was called, but wasn’t quite sure which century it referred to.

A propos of nothing, Pike took another sip of his beer and offered, “I hope he realizes Phil’s not going to let him disappear again.”

A small smile twisted Leonard’s lips as he replied, “With all due respect, sir, I think he already assumed as much about _you_.”

Pike huffed a laugh, nodding to concede the point. A companionable silence stretched, then, “I’m sorry he found out like this.”

“It’s Jim, isn’t it? He’s incapable of anything less than dramatics.”

Pike laughed again, more genuine humor apparent, “Unfortunately I’ve been hearing the same from his instructors. I’d implore him to keep his head down a little, but that would be the opposite of my recruitment speech.”

Leonard chuckled as well, because he’d heard the story: joining Starfleet on a dare. Jesus. 

Sobering, the older man asked, “Is he okay?”

Sensing that this was a bigger question than just about the events of the morning, Leonard considered carefully before replying, “Yeah.” Then with more confidence, “Yeah, I think he is.” Because Jim was. Cocky, yes. Arrogant, at times. Equal parts delight and bane of his instructors because he was just too damn quick for any intended curriculum— at least the first and second year classes. In the past year Leonard had seen the subtle change: a settling in to those cadet reds and a way Jim now stood that little bit straighter than the young man slouched in a leather jacket. Starfleet suited him.

“Good.” Pike nodded, “That’s good.” There was real relief bleeding into his tone.

Leonard fiddled with the label on his bottle, looking up when Boyce stuck his head around the doorway and asked, “You both okay for drinks?” They held up the bottles as evidence and he nodded.

Raising an eyebrow at his husband, Pike asked, “Jim okay?”

“Think so. He’s got a padd but looks like he could drift off any moment. I told him we’d probably check in on him later, but would try not to wake him up.”

The news was welcome, but Leonard was hit by a sense that he should go home. It was only going to get awkward the longer he lingered. Jim didn’t need him hovering around as well; the captains clearly had things under control.

Before he could start to make his excuses, Boyce knocked on the door frame gently to get his attention and pointed back towards the dining table with a smile, “Come on, Leonard. “I’ve got a proposal for a neural grafting research program I’d like your opinion on. We can spread out the plans and you can have a look— if it looks interesting I could probably get you on it. Chris can get your bed ready in the meantime.”

Protests that he didn’t want to be any trouble died on his tongue. Honestly, he didn’t want to go back to his single dorm.

Pike must have sensed Leonard’s dilemma between politeness and desire, as he quickly got up and offered an easy, “Sure. No problem.”

“Great.” Boyce nodded expectantly towards the dining room again.

Okay. Leonard took a breath and hauled himself to his feet. Since leaving Georgia, Jim was the only person he’d call a friend. He enjoyed some of his co-workers, but wouldn’t call himself close to any of them. He respected his superiors… some of them anyway, but there wasn’t anyone he’d call a mentor. No one whose office he’d stop by, like Jim did with Pike.

As Boyce’s hand settled on his shoulder to steer him to the table, he wondered if perhaps what Pike had said about disappearing just might apply to him as well. 

He didn’t mind that thought at all.

In fact, the academy might be looking up.


End file.
